The Marvelous Adventures of Molly & Mary
by BookishTea
Summary: With the boy's attention directed elsewhere, Molly Hooper enlists in the help of John's both beautiful and mysterious wife, Mary, to take over their place. Together, the pair will begin a tale unlike any other. And perhaps this duo will even surpass the quite famous Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.
1. Prologue

The sun over a misty London had lowered, signalling the quite repetitive and eventual end of a day. And still, this great city roared with life. Lights flickered among the constant laughter of people heading home, or yelling for a cab after a trip to the local pub.

Whilst the general population had turned in for a satisfying bout of sleep, some still refused this beckoning. In particular, this came to be Sherlock Holmes, and his long time best friend, John Watson. They currently resided in Sherlock's apartment, entranced by the video playing on John's well worn laptop.

This video was so captivating, that despite numerous attempts from Molly and Mary, the two women could simply not get them off to bed.

Each had their own reasons; Molly wanted to give Sherlock some much sought after thumbs, before she returned home after an exhausting day at the morgue. Sherlock's text had stressed the importance of arriving with the cold digits, and how there would be further instructions when Molly had arrived.

Mary on the other-hand, had wanted to end this visit hours ago. Only her husband kept her from returning home, and fueled her mounting annoyance.

The video in question was a single episode from a well awarded television show. Originally John had found out about the show from an advertisement, and had shown it to Sherlock as a joke. But quickly enough that had changed, so that both men found actual enjoyment in the series.

So much, that they couldn't be swayed to think of anything else.

The show's plot was centered around a band of pirates, which immediately piqued Sherlock's interest, being both of historic accuracy, and general creativity in the script, costumes, cinematography, and story. There was enough action to sate John's thirst, and quickly Bonded By The Sea(also known as B.B.T.S. to the more dedicated fans) was becoming a favourite between the pair.

Mary turned away from the sight of her husband and his friend perched on the consulting detective's couch, once again facing Molly with a sigh.

She met the brunette's frown with a grimace, mumbling "Men" under her breath. Just as Molly begun to nod, John's voice grumbled throughout the flat.

"I heard that."

Unconcernedly Mary finished buttoning the last two clasps to her coat, "Lovely, now maybe you can hear this. I'm tired of waiting for you John, so either you come along, or I'll head home by myself."

Clearing her own throat, Molly shifted her weight as she eyed Sherlock from the corner of her eye, "I-I was actually thinking the same thing, Sherlock. Going home, I mean. I'll just put the thumbs in the fridge, if you don't mind."

Sherlock made a noncommittal hum, waving the sound of Molly's voice away with the flick of his wrist. Besides that, there was no further response from either men.

Frowning, Mary turned back to Molly, "Right, should we head out then?"

Molly quickly nodded, hurrying to stuff the container filled with patient's thumbs into the fridge before joining the small blonde. As they headed out, closing the door to Sherlock's abode behind them, they started to have an awkward sort of chat.

Neither really dealt with the other before, at least, besides the occasional nod and pleasantries. They had, however, an even footing to strike up a conversation.

"I really do hate when they get like that," Mary admitted, "makes you wonder if he'd notice if I left."

"I know what you mean. Invisible. It always makes m-you question if you even matter."

As they climbed down the steps, Mary paused, "That's a thought, isn't it?"

Molly faltered as well, overcome with confusion as she frowned at the blonde beside her, "I'm not quite sure what you mean?"

Mary reached out, placing a firm grip on the brunette's shoulder with a impish grin, "Being invisible!"

"...Sorry?"

Mary glanced back to the top of the stairs, wondering if anyone would listen in to their conversation, satisfied, she turned back to Molly.

"Think about it, us, running off!"

Molly stepped as far back as the staircase would allow, brows knit together, "And why on earth would we do that?" She shook her head, "Where would we go?"

"That's the best part, we'd go anywhere. Just you and I; let's make a trip out of it!"

"I..." Troubled, Molly shifted the bag hanging from her shoulder, "I have responsibilities. The hospital and..and I have a cat! Toby, remember...?"

Mary snorted, "Those are just excuses. We both know you're long over due for some vacation time, not to mention you could easily get someone to watch Toby for you."

"Well what about you?! You're married for Pete's sake! I don't think John will like this plan, not one bit!"

Rolling her eyes, Mary scoffed, "John? John, goes on countless, and not to mention dangerous missions with that friend of his. He's not exactly one to judge. And look, I don't plan on cheating on him or anything. All I'm saying is...it's not fair. Why do they get all the adventures while we waste away at home? Worrying?"

Molly bristled, "You make it sound like I'm a can about to expire, I have nothing to worry about! I-it's not like Sherlock and I are.." Quickly Molly waved the thought away with her hand.

"You might as well be! Molly, you're at his beck and call. All he has to do is text or call, and you show up at riduclous times in the middle of the night. Just so you can give him some body parts for his experiments, then you get tossed out on your arse. You may not want to admit it, but it's _true_. "

"Then what? What am I supposed to do, Mary?" Molly gave a short and bitter chuckle, "Clearly you have all the answers, so please, enlighten me."

"Show him what you are."

"And that is...?"

Mary placed her hand back on Molly's shoulder, squeezing it, "A strong and independent individual. Someone that went through years of medical school, and isn't willing to be used and thrown in the bin. If you can't do this for yourself, do it for Sherlock. Establish guidelines, and the idea that you won't wait around for wishful thinking."

The staircase became silent, forgoing the faint chatter of Bonded By The Sea still running. Mrs. Hudson had already gone to sleep, leaving the tension to settle between Molly and Mary, and sink into the wood beneath their feet.

Molly looked away, staring ahead as she pondered Mary's lengthy rant. The slight curve of her mouth bunched together, appearing as if she'd tasted something sour. Finally she relaxed her face, and met the other's gaze once more.

"Fine. I'll do it." She raised her chin in the air, proud as she dared Mary to say anything. Satisfied that the nurse wouldn't, she continued with, "This was your idea, so I expect you'll come to me with all the information and research. Just so you know, I'll prefer to go somewhere hot, is that alright with you?"

Mary nodded, beaming at the other.

"Good." Molly took a couple of steps down the stairs before she paused once again, casting a glance over her shoulder, "How does the saying go? Absence makes the heart grow fonder?"

Molly smiled briefly, "I could live with that." she whispered, before she resumed going back the stairs.

"You certainly deserve it; how does Jamaica sound?!"

* * *

This is...this is utter madness!

 _"And this is his favourite toy filled with catnip, and this-"_

 _"Molly" Meena interrupted, "it's fine. Really. I think I can handle watching a cat for a week or two at most."_

 _But still, the pathologist fidgeted with the suitcase in front of her. Checking the items inside, for the hundredth time that day. Festering with paranoia and anxiety, she fought back the mounting stress._

 _"I know...it's just, I kind of want to stay home..."_

 _"No you don't!" Meena chastised, "You're just scared about unknown territory, and not being within your comfort zone. But Molly, I know you.." Meena reached forward, hugging the petite pathologist towards her with a grin. "And I know if you don't go, you'll just regret this for the rest of your life."_

 _Molly sighed, gripping the back of Meena's silken shirt as she inhaled the scent of her friend. Against the coppery skin, a perfume of lemons and cinnamon arose. And coupled with a warm embrace, immediately the stiffness of Molly's body dissipated._

 _"You're right, as bloody always."_

 _Meena pulled back from her friend, assuring her with a small but confident smile, "You'll do fine. But let's stop the theatrics here, you'll miss your flight if you don't hurry up."_

 _As the pathologist closed her suitcase again, taking a few steadying breaths before she headed off to grab the nearest cab to the airport, Meena flashed her another breathtaking smile._

 _"Molly, relax! You'll be back as soon as you know it, and I bet you'll even wish you could stay longer! When you come back, I expect a full summary of your vacation, with all the spicy details!"_

 _Nodding her assent, quickly Molly hugged her friend one last time and gave Toby a few goodbye pats before she went on her way._

A small packet entered Molly's personal space, catching her eye as she shifted in her seat.

"Thanks." she whispered, smiling briefly as she took the object from Mary's hand. Sliding the packet open, she popped a piece of gum from its protective casing.

After putting the piece in her mouth, Molly handed the container of gum back to Mary. Chewing on the mint flavoured gum for a second, Molly frowned as she pondered something.

"So, how'd it go for you?"

"How did what go?" Mary asked, putting the packet back in her coat pocket.

Molly gestured around them, and back to Mary with her hand, raising a brow in question.

"Oh that," Mary shrugged, "he was very understanding, and completely agreed with a little break between two gals." She playfully shook Molly with her elbow, offering her a wink.

* * *

When John came to, he gave a massive yawn as he stretched from his place on the sofa. The room was littered in snacks, and half empty or plainly empty beer bottles. It looked like a tornado had come through here, tearing the place apart.

Blinking back sleep from his eyes, John glared at Sherlock from the steady stream of light filtering through the windows.

"We really have to stop binge watching shows together."

Sherlock yawned in response, "You're the one that showed me it in the first place, if anything you're the one that has to stop."

John whacked the closest thing of Sherlock near him, meaning the slender length of his leg. The action earned him a grunt.

"God, what's the time?" He frowned at the watch clutching his arm, reading 12:45 pm. "Shit! Mary's going to kill me later when I get home!"

"Ah the pleasures of the domestic life." Sherlock sneered.

John was just about to hit Sherlock upside his curly head, when his phone trembled with an incoming text. Groaning, John picked it up and thumbed through his messages.

 **John, if you get this, then I'll be on my way to Jamaica right now. And before you freak out, it isn't because of some stupid affair or some mission, as Sherlock would suggest. I'm taking Molly Hooper for a little trip, poor girl could use one. I've already pre-made some dinners, and they're just in either the fridge or freezer. I won't respond to you until much later, as this is an automated text. I'll see you in a week! xoxo**  
 **\- Your loving wife, Mary**

"What the fuck..." John started, disbelief colouring his tone. His cell was ripped from his hands, taken into Sherlock's grip and narrowed gaze.

Wordlessly he read the text before he tossed the device back into John's lap, reaching for his own cell.

It appeared he first tried to text Molly, but after waiting for a minute and still no response, Sherlock moved on to calling her.

John was gathering his things together, getting ready to race home to check if his wife was still there, as a part of him still believed this was some sick joke.

"Molly, I've read the text from Mary. I expect you to call me back as soon as you get this, no later than that." The call was swiftly ended by Sherlock abruptly hanging up.

"What the hell do you think this all means?!" John frantically asked, stuffing his laptop into its travel case.

Sherlock lazily ruffled his hair, belittling the swirling emotions just underneath his stoic facade. "Obviously Mary has pushed Molly into another one of her schemes."

"Mary?!" John spun around from his bag, "How do we not know this isn't Molly's doing? She seems quite able to grab human remains for you, which I'm pretty sure is illegal. I don't think whisking my wife on some tropical trip is much of a stretch here, Sherlock!"

A glare cracked its way onto Sherlock's mask, "Oh come on, Molly is clearly not the mastermind here! This work has former CIA agent written all over it!"

Sherlock jumped to his feet at John's guff, "Molly Hooper hardly leaves her flat to join her friends for social activities, even though she's been asked countless times. She'd much rather stay home, either watching the telly, playing with that insufferable cat of hers, or reading medical journals. My Molly is simply too innocent and comfortable to make such a drastic change, not when she knows I need her here!"

Silence stretched between the two, filled only by the small panting coming from Sherlock's speech. John stood there for a second, mute as he observed his looming friend. The frown on his face broke as he began to chuckle, softly at first until it became full fledged howls of laughter.

Sherlock's brow dropped, and narrowed in his annoyance. "And what is so funny, John?" he asked through clenched teeth.

John gripped the arm of the couch for balance, torso still shaking with his amusement. He shook his head, trying to calm himself. Until finally he managed to say, "S-since when is she _your_ Molly, mate?"

The consulting detective froze for a second, blinking in confusion as he rewound back to his own words mere moments before. Shoulders hunching together defensively, he snatched up a pillow from the couch and flung it at his friend, shouting "Oh, shut up!" Then as dignified as he possibly could be, Sherlock stomped his way to the confines of his bedroom, both slamming and locking the door shut.

He refused to speak to John for the rest of the day, even when at the promise of solving a case together.


	2. If I Didn't Care

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Claire here. This fic is being posted on this site from my account on AO3, which may sort out some confusion. Since it is currently ongoing, I'll update to match my other account. That being said, I would also like to mention that from this point on this work is being edited by the lovely Roz. She is as gifted as an editor as a writer, so here's a link to her AO3: /users/Roz1013**

 **Also the lyrics presented in this chapter are from the song "If I Didn't Care" by the Ink Spots. That's all for now! xx**

 **\- BookishTea(Claire)**

* * *

As the plane had landed twenty minutes prior, Molly and Mary made their way to the airport's entrance, where there was a greeter on either side of the sliding doors.

"Welcome!" one sung, flashing each traveler a pristine row of pearly teeth. On each arm, they cradled a crown made of flowers. Each formed with the help from a delicate touch, showing the full bloom of the Hibiscus and Water Lilies.

Mary sighed, tugging her suitcase after her. As one of the greeters reached to place a crown on her head, she stepped away from it with a grimace.

In sharp contrast Molly eagerly bowed her head to receive the crown. As the greeter settled it on top of her head, Molly blushed with a smile. The light pinks and whites went well with not only her modest clothing, but the pleased expression on her face.

"Thank you."

Mary grinned with amusement as the pair continued out of the airport, and onto the front sidewalk.

"What?" Molly frowned at Mary's still present grin, and a dagger of insecurity bedded itself into her heart. She was tempted to take the damn thing off and fling it into the nearest garbage bin.

"I was just thinking it really suits you. You look beautiful in it, Molly."

"Really?" Molly asked wistfully.

Mary nodded, and immediately Molly found herself far more relaxed with John's wife. They were on the right track to being very close.

They came to a stop by the curb, waiting for a taxi to roll before them. Eventually one did show up, and the passenger's window rolled down.

"You need a ride?" The driver asked, and for a second Molly couldn't understand what he meant through his thick accent. Luckily Mary was there to intervene, and she slightly bent over to peer into the stout car.

"Yes, can you take us to the Black River Inn?" Mary asked with a flirtatious smile.

The balding man nodded and gestured for them to climb in.

Both Molly and Mary placed their bags in the car's trunk before hopping in, Mary next to the driver, while Molly sat in the back.

They barely had time to buckle their seat-belts before the taxi was barreling down the street, squealing as it weaved between other vehicles.

"My name is Bobby; is this your first time here?"

"I'm Mary, and my friend is Molly."

"Hello." Molly meekly called from the back.

Mary withdrew her gum once again, and popped a piece in her mouth before she put the packet into its former place. As she vigorously chewed, she answered Bobby.

"I have, a couple of times before."

The taxi came to a halt, purring as it waited before a red light. Bobby drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, and then tilted his head towards Mary, never once removing his gaze from the street.

"Weddings? We tend to get a lot of those."

"No, it was...work related."

"Do nurses tend to go overseas?" Molly suddenly asked, leaning forward as she tried to meet Mary's eyes around the bulk of the blonde's seat.

"It was before I was a nurse. How about you, Molls'? Ever been to Jamaica?"

The swift change of topic troubled the other woman, but she bit her tongue. Despite wondering over the possible jobs Mary once had, Molly recognized this wasn't the place to ask. Not to mention it was clear that the small blonde wasn't comfortable talking about it.

For now she mercifully rose to the bait, "Never. I haven't been out of country often, and I always seemed to get sick on the trip. So I spent the majority of it holed up at the hotel room."

Mary's face peered around her seat, donning a bright grin, "Well don't worry, we'll change that!"

Molly couldn't help but smile at the determined promise. The fact that someone cared so much about her was a drastic but certainly welcome change, enough to have her heart swelling at the thought.

"Thanks" she mouthed to Mary. She fell back against her seat; the car lunged forward.

Bobby used his spare hand that wasn't steering to fiddle with the radio, switching through static and pop music until he landed on the sound of a man singing.

Sweet at first, the underlying yearning was stressed as the song danced on.

 _"If I didn't care, more than words can say._

 _If I didn't care, would I feel this way?"_

Molly met Bobby's gaze through the front view mirror.

"Do you like it?"

Molly nodded, "Very much. Who sings it?"

Bobby chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "The Ink Spots of course! Who else would it be?"

The mentioned band appeared to croon even louder at Bobby's words.

 _"...And what makes my head go round and round, while my heart stands still?_

 _If I didn't care, would it be the same?_

 _Would my every prayer begin and end with just your name?_

 _And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare?"_

Molly looked away from the warm colour of Bobby's eyes, favouring to watch as the landscape sped by. She rolled down her window slightly, and was startled by the breeze layering the humid air.

During this time of year England was cold with the foreshadowing of winter, grey and depressing with its constantly chilled rain. The feeling soaked into your bones, making you wish to take shelter under some blankets and never emerge again.

She was simply not used to this switch in weather. Clouded skies were taken for cloudless ones, broadcasting the sun as a large and unavoidable dot. Breathing in the fragrant air, and the crisp scent that came with the ocean, Molly closed her eyes.

Wind caressed her cheeks, and though gentle, the touch still had her arms rising with goosebumps.

From one sense being taken away, hearing stood greater still. Chatter of exotic birds as they called from the trees and soaring above, mixed together with children laughing in the streets and the radio.

Unbeknownst to her, Molly's face relaxed into a small smile. Overtaken in awe as her eyes were peeled open to see the lush and green landscape.

 _"...And would I be sure that this is love beyond compare?_

 _Would all this be true if I didn't care for you?..."_

"Beautiful." Molly whispered to herself.

* * *

Sherlock pushed the heavy door open, letting it fall behind him as he strolled into the busy New Scotland Yard office.

John cursed just seconds after, soon entering behind him. His blonde best friend clutched his nose, as Sherlock had slammed it right in his face.

"Bastard." he hissed under his breath, glaring at the consulting detective.

Sherlock ignored him, and took a seat. He didn't wait for John to sit down, immediately smiling stiffly at the older man across from him.

"Sherlock." Lestrade sighed, "What are you doing here?"

A snort filled the gap between them, paired with an annoyed eye roll.

"Isn't it obvious?"

Greg ran a hand through his grey hair, feeling a headache coming on, "Would I ask if it was?"

"I'm bored."

Greg leaned back in his leather seat, "So, go read a book or something. As you can see, I'm busy." He waved a hand to his desk, which was covered in stacks of paperwork and empty cups of coffee.

"That'd just make things worse. I need a case, do you have any?"

Greg took great delight in shifting forward and saying "No" to Sherlock. Watching as the other man glowered at him.

"But I'm bored!" Sherlock loudly protested, peeved that Greg couldn't give him an interesting or any case for that instance, to solve.

"Too bad, things are quiet. For once. Look, if you're that anxious to do something, why don't you do some crosswords?"

"...Crosswords? You must be _joking_. "

Greg lazily shrugged, "It's a thought. Why not head down to the morgue, study some corpses or do some experiments?"

The mention of the morgue had Sherlock perking up, but not in a good way. As quick as it was said, any possible hope for a good mood was taken away.

John sat in the chair by Sherlock's, ignoring the stormy expression on his friend's face.

"We can't go to the morgue."

Greg's brows knitted together in confusion, "Why on earth not?"

Calmy John inspected the tips of his fingers for any signs of blood, keeping his tone casual as he said, "Because Molly isn't there and Sherlock thinks her temporary replacement is an idiot."

"He's not just an idiot! That lout is utterly useless! How can someone forget to take into consideration a body's rigor mortis?!"

John met Greg's eye, and taking pity on the man, mumbled out an explanation.

"Dr. Baur felt it wasn't necessary to tell Sherlock when a body came in, and just sent him some records instead of letting him see the actual thing."

Greg turned back to Sherlock, " _That's_ what has you so ruffled?"

" You make it seem like I'm melodramatic! A body's rigor mortis needs to be studied in the flesh! Otherwise what's the point of inspecting it at all? And to think I wouldn't have to deal with this if..."

"Molly stayed here." John finished for him.

"Oh that's right!" Greg spared John an amused grin, "She's on vacation isn't she? I heard some of the staff at St. Barts talking about it, and how they wished they tagged along."

"She shouldn't have gone in the first place!" Sherlock piped in.

"You're not the first one to say that, Sherlock. A lot of people are already marking down her return date, you would think someone died by the way they're acting."

"This is exactly what I mean! The staff at St. Barts cloud their work with emotions! How I am supposed to work in these conditions?!"

Greg shrugged, "Molly's a sweet person, so it's natural that people will miss her. And from what I've heard, she doesn't do well with overseas trips."

John hummed in consideration, "She is very pleasant to be around. I guess some time away will do her some good, heaven knows she deserves it. I just hope Mary doesn't drag her into too much trouble."

"Mary went with her?"

John nodded, "It was probably her whole idea."

"There's no probably. It _was_." Sherlock snapped from his seat, crossing his arms as his eyes hawkishly darted between the two other men.

"Anyways, they'll be in Jamaica for a week. So I have to somehow manage putting up with..." John stabbed a thumb in Sherlock's direction, "and not throttling him at the same time."

"I'll pray for you," Greg chuckled, "let's just hope the girls are having a good time. No doubt some gents will be fawning over our Molly."

Sherlock sprung to his feet, which caused his chair's legs to scrape against the floor with an unbearable screech.

As he thundered his way out of the office, he left two men confused and slightly concerned in his wake. Police officers fresh out of academy stepped back as his stalked through the building, each gulping at his darkened expression.

The chilled air of the morning greeted him as he slammed the front door behind him, sniffing in distaste as he removed his cell from his coat pocket.

He scrolled down his list of contacts until he reached Molly's, calling her number. It rung five times before the automated voicemail picked up, filling his ears with a familiar voice.

 _"Hullo! Unfortunately I can't come to the phone right now, I'm either at the morgue or playing with Toby. Please leave a message after the beep. Thank you, and have a lovely day!"_

Just as the beep was about to sound, Sherlock ended the call. He wasn't sure why, but the timid voice on the other end had his stomach bunched together with a sour feeling.

Something he couldn't explain, and certainly didn't like.

* * *

Mary loudly whistled, proud as she stood beside her gawking friend.

Molly turned her head towards her, "T-this is where we're staying?"

The short blonde nodded, beaming as she took in the building once again.

Before them was the Black River Inn, originally a holiday home for a very wealthy Victorian family. The house reminded Molly of an Easter egg, painted a pastel shade of yellow, with white trim and some muddy orange accents.

Only the small and faded sign hanging on the porch identified the house as an inn, otherwise Molly would have thought it just another private residence. And for good reason. This place belonged on a postcard, with its rich gardens brimmed with an array of vivid flowers, and the ever constant buzzing of insects chattering amongst themselves.

Besides the wildlife there wasn't a single sound, and Molly was slightly disturbed by it. This was nothing like the roar of the city, she could imagine this the perfect place for her to relax.

"You picked well." Molly praised, thanking her companion with a smile.

Mary returned the favour and giving her friend a wink, said, "Just wait until you see the rooms!"

Giggling together with glee, the pair bounded up the path and to their temporary home. Unaware that from the third storey a curtain shifted by a lone window, revealing the flash of a face watching their arrival.

Molly shivered, caught off guard by a peculiar sensation overcoming her. She paused as she glanced up, barely glimpsing the drop in the curtain.

"Molly?" Mary called from the porch, "Are you okay?"

She shook her head, trying to clear the strange occurrence from her thoughts. She beamed at her friend, wishing to assure Mary that everything was alright.

"Yes, everything is good." Hurriedly she made haste to join Mary's side and make their way into the inn.


	3. The Black River Inn

Seated in the front room was a single woman by a desk, who glanced up from her book at the sound of the door opening.

Mary was the first one to step up to her, flashing a bright smile.

"Hello, how can I help you?"

"Hello," Mary braced herself by placing a hand upon the wood, "my name is Mary Watson. I booked two rooms?"

The woman, identified to be Andrea only by a name pin attached to her blouse, shifted a small stack of papers to get to a slender binder. Wordlessly she flipped through it, eyes scanning the list of names until she reached Mary's.

Tapping the paper with a painted nail, Andrea glanced up to them.

"I'll need to see some identification first, a passport or anything with a photo will do."

Soon after some momentary searching, two passports were placed on the desk. It didn't take long for Andrea to flip the small booklets open and compare it to the information stored in her binder. She pushed the passports back towards them with the tips of her fingers, already glancing back down to the sheet before her.

"You're on the third floor, rooms twelve and seventeen. The stairs are down that hallway." Andrea scooted back in her chair, sliding a drawer to a cabinet open to remove two keys. Double checking the numbers printed on the tag hanging from the bit of metal, she then placed the keys onto the desk.

"These will be your keys to get into your rooms. We do have copies here, but we still entrust you to look after these. If you somehow lose them, you'll be sent a bill to make up for the time it cost to make the copies, and other considerations. Do you understand?"

Mary plucked up the two objects, offering the seated woman a nod.

Satisfied by what she saw, Andrea finally smiled, "Good. I hope you have a wonderful time at Black River Inn. Just so you know, our usual bellhop isn't here at the moment. He's out getting supplies from the local market, so you'll have to carry your own luggage for today. You'll later get a little fruit basket or platter as an apology for the inconvenience."

Mary mumbled her thanks before she headed in the pointed direction, eyes eagerly taking in the inn as Molly trailed after her.

The hallway was lit not by a simple fixture, but by opened windows, which showed the stretch of the inn's impressive garden outside. The natural light had the wood of the hallway positively gleaming, and Molly couldn't help but wonder if the floorboards were just recently waxed.

From what she could see, it appeared that they had, but it was hard to tell by the rug that stretched along the length of the corridor.

It was a dark shade of green, embroidered with golden leaves. It was rather sad that the rug would undoubtedly be destroyed by constant wear and muddy footprints. They passed by a door that was slightly opened. Molly was surprised when Mary decided to stop in front of her, and even further when she nudged the door.

"Mary!" Molly hissed under her breath, worried that someone would find them sticking their heads into places that they didn't belong. Mary comforted her friend with an impish smile, which obviously did little to offer solace to Molly. Still, she didn't look away, even with worry upsetting her belly.

Thankfully the door barely creaked as it inched to reveal its secrets; Mary and Molly were both eager to peer inside.

A spacious living room was there to greet them, pristine and elegant much like the rest of the inn. On the wall opposite of their own, there was a single window that reached from the floor all the way to the ceiling. The warm glow of sunshine was slightly blocked by the merlot drapes that matched the carpet underfoot. Much like the rug in the hallway, it was also highlighted with golden thread.

The walls themselves were sage in nature, beholding portraits of the former owners, and a large mirror that hung above the fireplace.

The two women spared each other a glance before they wordlessly entered the room, enticed by the calmness that radiated here.

Unlike Mary, who eyed the furniture. Some of which differed from a stiff looking sofa and chairs to grand shelves holding a plethora of leather bound books. Molly walked right up to the paintings, taking in the similarities between the stoic people, and the differences. As she circled the room, she absorbed each face, and tried to imagine them as flesh and blood before her.

The plaque underneath each painting was far too scratched and dusty to read, and wiping the surface did little to aid her. But of all the images, Molly decided the last one was her favourite. The frame was set in the corner, where the light couldn't very well reach, leaving it to feel unappreciated. But still, it was of a small child, a young girl perhaps no older than ten. She was pale, with large brown eyes that seemed to peer right into your soul. With a mass of auburn curls, half hidden by a soft pink shawl that tried its hardest to make her appear tidy and tamed.

What Molly liked best about this girl was not her frilly and pleasant peach coloured dress, nor the rose to her cheeks, but the smile on her face. While her relatives all appeared bored and put off, this nameless child beamed with mirth, which the artist captured perfectly.

She was so mesmerized and taken with it, that she didn't realize that Mary was beside her until she began tugging on her sleeve.

"We better head to our rooms, otherwise they'll start wondering if they have a pair of thieves on their hands."

"I guess we better." Molly sighed, and reluctantly followed her friend back to the hallway. As they continued where they last left off, they passed another door before they reached the staircase.

There the two women had to bear the weight of their suitcases as they traveled up the winding steps, careful not to slip on the polished surface. It was a tiresome endeavour, filled with complaints and groans until they passed one landing and climbed onto another.

The floor rumbled as the luggage was unceremoniously dropped to the floor, accompanied by an echo of relieved sighs.

"Never doing that again." Mary hissed, rubbing the sore muscles of her back.

"Likewise."

The blonde of the pair reached into her pockets, removing the keys, tossing one to Molly while she kept the other. Once again she took hold of her suitcase's handle, tugging it behind her, "Right, first thing I'm doing is taking a very long nap."

Molly peered into her hand, staring at the gleaming metal. Printed on its tag was the number twelve, and the young pathologist grinned at the thought.

"I could use one of those." she admitted, looking up from her spot to see Mary standing in front of a door. Nailed on the front of the white wood was a small sign, which announced the room by a clearly painted number.

"We'll discuss our plans later on in an hour, how does that sound?" Mary purposed with a large yawn, already unlocking her door.

"You look you'll need maybe three hours."

"I think you might be right. Are you sure you don't want to meet up sooner?"

Molly softly smiled, walking up to her friend, "I'll be fine. I'll unpack my luggage in the meantime. Maybe even try to digest being in a separate country." She placed her hands on either of Mary's shoulders, giving them a squeeze, "I won't begrudge a couple of hours of sleep. There's plenty of light out."

Mary shook her head with a tired but thankful smile, "In three hours I expect you to be dressed and ready, I'm famished to try the local cuisine."

"I'll be here."

With one last mumbled goodbye, the two women went their separate ways. Mary retreated into her room, locking the door behind her, while Molly continued to make her way down the hallway.

All was quiet as she wheeled her luggage down the corridor, taking in each door as she went past. Slowly the numbers transformed, getting closer and closer to her own.

15...14...13...and finally 12.

Excitement wound itself around Molly, setting her on on edge as she set her luggage down to open her door.

Just as her key hovered an inch above the doorknob, Molly was startled by the sound of something being swung. Heart hammering against her ribs, she turned around to watch as the door opposite of hers made way for its inhabitant.

He was considerably taller than her, and from her rough estimate, perhaps a couple of years older.

Molly's breath caught, immediately flustered as he shut the door behind him and met her gaze.

He had the features of someone from an old lineage, proud and stubborn in appearance. Copper hair brushed away from skin akin to nutmeg, he was certainly handsome and fit.

As they stood in the hallway staring at one another, Molly couldn't help but think he'd look even better if he smiled. From where she stood, it was obvious he didn't do that often.

Her mouth was agape, compelling her to say something...anything to this man. But she couldn't, not when her throat was dry as she was locked in this bizarre staring contest.

His eyes, heady like coffee, were the first to glance away. Wordlessly he locked his door before he turned back to her, and after giving a single nod, he walked down the hallway, hands stuffed into his jean pockets.

She stood there even longer, feeling as if she failed the steps in some strange but vital dance. A minute later she remembered her room, and quickly twisted the door open with her key and yanked her luggage inside after her.

* * *

Williams clambered his way down the stairs until he finally passed the front room, giving Andrea a small smile as he went by.

As always, she favoured to not acknowledge him, not when her harlequin novel was getting rather steamy. He rolled his eyes, making his way unnoticed out of the inn.

He withdrew a packet of cigarettes from his pocket when he stepped outside, immediately placing one between his lips and lighting it.

A deep drag filled his mouth with smoke, escaping past his lips as he exhaled into the air. Grey tendrils swirled into the hushed blue of the sky, worming along in plumes.

Suddenly Williams frowned, pondering the unexpected experience he just had. He found himself staring at the top floor of the house, eyeing the side he knew where she'd be staying.

Whoever she was, she was quite strange. It was like she'd never seen the opposite sex before, and the effect made Williams feel like he was the new act at some freak-show, standing behind a thin screen as others pointed and gawked at him.

He shook his head, inhaling more smoke as he continued his walk. The petite brunette was of no significant importance to him, and he was sure that both parties would soon forget the meeting. He certainly would, especially with work skyrocketing.

"Tourists." he mumbled between the layers of smoke, before he flicked what remained of his cigarette to the grass, crushing it with the heel of his shoe.

* * *

Molly shook her head, clearing any confusion that could be rattling inside her skull. Glancing up she then finally realized the room before her.

Dark wood stretched from the floorboards underfoot to the furniture that sparsely filled the room, each taken care of to pristine condition. They could almost double as mirrors.

"Wow..." Molly mumbled under her breath, eyes greedy to take in everything.

It was as if she stepped into a Jane Austen novel, a bed adorned in several of layers of blankets, until a quilt with the image of gnarled branches and chirping birds rested on top. The pale green of it matched the heavy curtains that were pushed away from old ajar windows, fluttering from the soft candied breeze that entered this haven.

She had been completely unaware of what she needed, but this small but homey room had somehow shown her the right path.

Her momentarily forgotten luggage was nudged out of the way of the closing door, afterwards only touched so Molly could grab a few things from her suitcase. Mainly a couple of books to peruse, and her cell.

The books were quickly placed on her nightstand, right beside the small jar holding a candle. She paused, studying it further before she popped the glass lid off, and leaned down to sniff.

She sighed, the corners of her lips twitching into a smile. Mulberries were always so underrated, especially their sweet scent.

Putting the lid back into its rightful place, Molly took a small leap until she plopped onto the surface of her bed. A moan immediately leaving her as the softness embraced her tired body, already taking away any knots of stress from her muscles.

She relaxed until the only thing that rooted her to this plane of existence was the weight that rested in her left palm, insignificant but still present. An annoyed streak tingled the corners of her thoughts, the allure of sleep abandoned as curiosity and her obligations back home got the best of her. She lifted the device to her face, pressing the power button until the screen flashed to life.

Immediately the sound of bells chiming rung in her ears, causing her to subconsciously flinch at the sudden noise.

Her brows furrowed as she entered her inbox, and scrolled to her latest messages. She had expected something from Meena, a customary reassurance that Toby was fine, and an inquiry of the trip so far. Instead Molly was presented with two missed calls, and several unread texts. The first call had been from Sherlock and Molly dreaded listening to it.

He'd probably be ranting about some bloody case, or body parts she forgot to put to the side for him. Either way, it couldn't possibly be pleasant. Not to mention, she already had some texts from the consulting detective she had to read, those too were left until much later.

The other messages were from Meena, Greg Lestrade, which in all honesty came to a surprise, and John.

She favoured reading Meena's first, figuring that was the least she could do her friend. After all, she was watching Toby, who could be quite the drama queen. She began to chuckle, wondering if he had already knocked things over or got into the bathroom's toilet paper, once again unleashing a reign of terror as he shredded every single piece in sight...

 **Dear Ms. I-Don't-Want-To-Go-To-Jamaica,**

 **How is everything going? I'm guessing you've already landed by now?**

 **So tell me, is the world ending as you presumed? If so, at least you'll be warm when the apocalypse happens. BTW, Toby and I are just fine! I might just decide to keep him when you come back, haha. On a completely separate note, can cats eat popcorn?**

 **Be sure to take lots of pictures!**

 **Meena.**

Shaking her head, Molly chuckled to herself, quickly sending a response.

 **My best friend,**

 **Everything is fantastic, and beautiful. I wish you were here, I'm sure you'd love it. We just got to the inn, and I'm caught between sleeping for an eon or exploring everything at once. And you were right about it being warm. I don't miss the rain AT ALL!**

 **Thanks again for pushing me into doing this, I know my fits can be annoying at times. I'm glad that I have a friend like you. It's good to hear that you and Toby are getting along! But I will expect to get him back, best friend or not, haha.**

 **Also, should I be concerned about something?(Please don't feed Toby anything weird)**

 **I'll take enough photos for the two of us.**

 **Molly, aka Ms. I-Don't-Want-To-Go-To-Jamaica**

A knock hammered at her room's door, enticing her away from her phone so she could answer it.

"Yes?" she questioned softly, opening the door to find out who her visitor was.

Before her stood a sheepish Mary, saying "I couldn't wait any longer. Are you ready to go?"

Molly nodded, "Let me just grab a few things, alright?"

Leaving Mary by the door, Molly raced to her suitcase, removing her purse and quickly checking the contents.

Holding it to her side, she joined her friend, "Let's go."

Molly deliberately left the phone behind. She was on holiday and Sherlock Holmes could wait until she was well and ready to listen to her messages.


	4. Try Not To Be Shellfish

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! Claire here. This story has been officially caught up to my AO3 account, as this exact chapter was posted today. Unfortunately from this point on, the chapters won't be posted as...frequently. But hopefully you'll all bear with me, thanks for understanding!**

 **\- BookishTea(Claire)**

* * *

The heat is unbearable, causing Molly's shirt to cling to her back like a second skin. A droplet of sweat trails from her scalp to the bridge of her nose, and with a huff of annoyance, she wipes it away with a spare hand.

They had found a path that travelled to a nearby beach, and lining just before was a series of shops brimming with everything you could possibly want, from fresh food, clothing, toys, and even small pets. After they bought their lunch, which was grilled crab cakes and salad, they carried their plates to a wooden table under a flowering tree. The blue mahoe, as Mary informed her, was the national tree of Jamaica.

"Isn't it a beautiful day?"

She snorts, glancing up from the piece of lettuce speared on the end of her fork.

Mary had done the sensible thing and changed into a thin dress, unlike the cheap ones sold at the airport. It was void of any loud colours that attracted the street vendors like flies; flashing **I'm a tourist! Pay attention to me! Rob me of all my money!**

And yet Molly hadn't been so wise. London was chilled with frigid rain by the time they left for Jamaica, and she still hadn't changed into any of the dresses or shorts she brought with her. Instead she faced the tropical heat in a turtleneck. Only the half thawed bag of ice under her bottom, gifted by a sympathetic seafood vendor, and her lemonade kept her from melting.

"Oh don't be like that, why don't you just take the damn thing off?"

Molly realized that her current state wasn't Mary's fault, but her blood was boiling from the sun's unwavering attention. Which kept the bite in her tone as she addressed the women seated across from her, "You don't think I would have if I could? I'm not wearing a shirt under this, Mary!"

And yet the attitude seemed unnoticed by the blonde, as she answered the hiss with a chuckle.

"You don't have to be _crabby_ about the whole thing. Look, no one cares. They'll probably think it's some bathing top or something. Who knows, maybe you could get a couple of numbers?" She winked at her sullen friend, eyebrows waggling suggestively

Molly's frown flickered away as she appreciated the little pun by shoving a piece of grilled crab into her awaiting mouth. Savouring the taste that rested on her tongue as she swallowed the food down, she felt the corners of her lips twitch.

"Oh shush before I actually begin to consider it! You're becoming a bad influence on me, Mrs. Watson."

"Someone has to Ms. Hooper," Mary dabbed at her lips before tossing the napkin onto her empty plate "now c'mon, let's do some walking around!"

Her startled friend glanced up to the rising blonde, "Are you sure? It seems a bit sudden to explore the area on the day we arrive."

"Not at all, the day is still young and-"

* * *

"...alive! I just know he is, John!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Sherlock. We've been over this, he's as dead as a doornail."

"I've never liked that saying." Sherlock admitted under his breath, and yet, he still didn't stop his pacing. Never before had he found himself so puzzled, nor fixated on a certain event.

Not on the death of Moriarty, or the incident in Sherlock's youth when he was wrongly found guilty of eating Great Aunt Ester's chocolates from her metal box. It was obvious it was Mycroft, the proof had been on his greedy chubby fingers, stained with sticky chocolate. And yet still, Mycroft managed to shift the blame to him!

Recalling the memory only seemed to aggravate Sherlock further, building him up to the point of snapping, much like an elastic band stretched too far.

Until an idea entered his head, the perfect kindling to the fire of his mind.

He spun around, "The key!"

"Sammy took it with him, remember?" John pointed out from the couch, his laptop balanced on his lap as he scrolled through a seemingly endless page of information on the show's wiki. Something John tried to only skim, lest he run across a spoiler.

"That's right." Sherlock mumbled, and began to pace once more.

A knock hammered on the front door for a second before it was opened, and Mrs. Hudson stepped into the flat.

"What on earth are you doing, Sherlock? I can hardly hear my shows with your moving about."

When Mrs. Hudson was ignored by the consulting detective, she turned to his friend instead.

"There must be a nasty case to have him like this."

John shook his head, "Not quite. He's trying to figure out the ending of last night's episode of B.B.T.S."

"Excuse me?"

"Bonded By The Sea, Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock snapped from the other side of the room, rummaging through a pile to find something specific. With a small shout of success, he hurried over to the elderly woman to shove the item into her face.

She ripped it from the impatient set of hands and squinted. It was a DVD for a television show with a large ship fighting massive and angry churning waves.

It shared the same name that Sherlock had just spouted at her. Unimpressed, she placed it on a nearby table.

"So? I don't see what the big deal is about?"

That earned her two exclaims of outrage, with Sherlock in particular rushing to tell her how completely wrong she was to think that, and how Bonded By The Sea was a masterpiece that would outlive foolish generations such as her own.

Rolling her eyes, Mrs. Hudson calmly walked out of the flat and shut the door behind her, leaving poor John to endure Sherlock ranting to an empty space. That it is, until twenty minutes later he finally threw a book at him to shut his best friend up.

* * *

Pale blue water, heated all day by the sun, rolled along the grey sand of the beach. As if alive, it tried to reach the number of people strolling along. Those whom had their ankles and feet licked by the ocean water didn't care in the slightest, and continued with conversations without a single care.

Molly wondered if she'd ever get the chance to be like them, even on a trip others dreamed about she still worried about her troubles back home, the piles of paperwork, her friends and her lack of romantic relationships.

A sigh had just crawled from her lips, when a hand clamped on her shoulder.

"Oh no you don't!"

"What?" Molly whined, a smile gracing her face, despite if she wanted it or not.

Mary dragged her friend close by her side as they continued to walk on a path along the waterfront, "We're here to have fun, my dear Molly. Not moan and groan the whole time, well..." Mary glanced at Molly from the corner of her eye, impish smile overtaking her face.

"I don't like that look."

She said nothing, seizing the other's wrist in a iron clad hold as she tugged the young pathologist after her.

After a few fruitless minutes of trying to wrench her arm from the blonde's grip, Molly resigned to her fate. But that didn't stop her from being filled with nervous energy and curiosity; "At least say where we're going?" Molly begged, tone edged with laughter as the pair sped up into a racing pace.

* * *

Williams glared at the back of the lumbering man in front of him, hoping that he'd hurry and this exchange would be done and over with. He did no such thing, so Williams had to wait until they finally reached the end of the hallway, and the rock-like human slowly opened the door leading to one of the most important men on the island.

Just as the giant stepped to the side, eyeing him, Williams shortened the distance between himself and success.

Inside was a spacious room with expensive Persian rugs underfoot, and couches stuffed into each corner. The smell of smoke was strong enough to have Williams' skin itching, and the desire to cough burning his lungs. He refused to do exactly that, even when the threat of tears pricked the corners of his eyes.

Women of all shapes and sizes lounged on the couches, perched on the laps of an even greater variety of men. They didn't stifle their loud laughter or vulgar groping of one another, not when whatever fix they wanted was placed on the tables.

Williams didn't let his eyes linger, only briefly glance as he walked straight up to the opposite side of the room, where a single, large desk stood. There, flipping through page after page of information, sat a man of middling stature. He took no note of the new arrival, but Williams knew better. Everyone was acting relaxed, but everyone had a something in common with each other. The men all had a cold glaze to their eyes, hired or not, they were all killers. And despite the women's flirting, they couldn't fully hide the desperation for their drug of choice, all were addicted and knew there was no way out.

They all belonged to the man behind the desk, or rather, the man that should have been there.

Williams held his anger in check, "Abram, what are you doing here?"

The man stopped going through the pages on the desk, and instead moved them to the side where they couldn't be seen by prying eyes.

"That's a funny way to say hello, Williams. I hope you aren't forgetting your privileges."

Though Abram didn't say it any way less than monotone, a hush folded over the room.

"You're right, I'm sorry if I offended you, sir."

Abram leaned back, stretching his legs, and the room was roused back to its original mood.

"Don't worry about it," Abram waved a hand to the seats across from him, and started to speak once Williams sat down, "now why are you here? Any issues with payments?"

Williams shook his head, already removing an envelope from his jean pocket, and gently placed it on the desk. He waited until Abram picked it up, lifting up the tab to peer inside before he looked back to Williams with a raised brow.

"I was told by Kim I was going to meet-"

"The boss? You are...maybe." Abram interrupted, shrugging his shoulders without a care. He pushed his hair away from his eyes, fishing a cigarette from the inside of his pocket. It was barely placed between his lips when Williams was already holding a lighter up for him, letting the cancer-stick catch flame.

Abram dipped his head in thanks, already deeply inhaling.

Williams stuffed the lighter back into his pant pocket, patiently waiting on the other man.

Abram was another stepping notch in this ladder to reach the boss of the whole organization, an individual that few knew. And Williams had spent a better part of five years trying to find out who exactly this was, who commanded such respect from the shadows.

Even guys like Abram swore undying loyalty to him, a man that would no sooner kill someone in cold blood for looking at him in the wrong way. Williams switched his gaze to the painting hanging just beyond Abram on the wall, an image deformed by naked bodies twisted together in an ecstasy that borderlined torment. He couldn't stomach staring at it for too long, it gave him a sinking feeling every time he looked at it

The loud exhale of smoke slithering from lungs had Williams looking back at Abram, and for the first time Williams was almost content to stare at Abram's rat features.

"Unfortunately you aren't fully trusted yet, so you'll have to do another job for us." Abram gestured to a man standing not too far from the table, mumbling something into his ear as soon as he hunched over. As soon as he finished talking the nameless man hurried to deliver whatever information he was given.

Abram turned to Williams and dismissed him with "We'll be in touch."

Squashing down his rage and disappointment, Williams silently rose to his feet with a nod and turned on his heel. The same man that led him to the room shut the door behind him, making it seem finite as the sound echoed.

* * *

Molly and Mary sat down on their individual stools with a huff of laughter, each having a grin from ear to ear. All around them the peaking noon had people filling the closest bars they could find, and grabbing a cool beer to ward off the summer heat.

Molly would never have found herself going to a place like this, but of course Mary was there to usher her around.

"I guess somethings are the same, despite the country." Molly hummed, thinking back to the pubs at home.

"Don't misjudge humankind's love of getting shitfaced!" Mary chuckled, waving an arm to get the attention of the bartender. Eventually he spotted Mary's attempts and headed over, deep voice drawing both women close as his gaze flickered between the two of them.

"What can I get you lovely ladies?"

Just as charming Mary leaned over the counter, "Surprise us with anything that's cold."

An amused smile worked itself of the man's face, "You got it." His eyes lingered on Molly as he walked past to the stacks of glasses, offering her a wink.

Molly flushed at the action, colour only deepening at the laughter by her side.

"Day one and already you're getting attention!"

She shook her head in disbelief, hoping she didn't look quite as flustered as she felt.

"If only I got this luck back home."

"Luck?" Mary scoffed, "This isn't luck, Molls. You're beautiful, plain and simple."

The petite brunette shrugged her shoulders, not believing her friend's words for a second. A hand was pressed against her back, rubbing soothing circles. "Look, I'll prove it if it's the last thing I'll do."

Molly peered at the blonde, tugging some chestnut locks behind an ear, "And how are you going to do that?"

Her friend smiled confidently, "By showing how appealing you are, whether you believe it or not."

"It's...it's not that I think I'm such an undesirable mess, I know I have some good attributes. Like how Tom would constantly compliment me on my eyes, he'd say they were like a doe's. It's just that I'm not attractive to whom it counts."

"And who counts?"

"I-Look, it's not important. Please, let's just talk about anything else."

After noting Molly's expression, reluctantly she dropped the topic, but quickly made up for it with a new one.

"Fine, let's talk about something else. Like...oh I don't know, getting that bartender's phone number."

Molly broke out into a series of giggles, "Don't you dare!" She thought Mary was just joking until their bartender came over carrying two thick glasses of drinks coloured a strange shade of purple, and then Molly noticed the devious grin on her companion's face.

That's when she realized that Mary was being serious.


	5. Questions Topped With Inquiries

Light poured in, bathing the bed with the colours of the morning sky. The intensity of it had Molly groaning, her head throbbing painfully.

She rolled on her side to get away, body brushing against something warm as she turned. The nearness of Toby was comforting, and she reached a blind hand out to stroke his fluffy fur.

What her hand met wasn't the texture she expected, something soft, but covered in short little hairs.

Confused, she cracked one eye open against the barrage of sunshine.

An arm was beside her, which had Molly opening her other eye to stare at the limb in befuddlement. Slowly she traced it back to its owner, watching as it dipped to hide under a frayed blue blanket and remerge to attach itself to a torso.

Whoever it was, they had their back to Molly. Confusion and fear nibbled at her chest as Molly lightly pressed a hand to the peach skin of a shoulder, a white line for a scar just below a shoulder blade.

The action had the person groaning as they flipped over to face Molly, expression irritated just as she was with the light.

"What?"

"...Mary, what are you doing in my bed?"

"I think it's more of, what are you doing in _my_ bed, Molly?"

There was a minute of silence around them before the young pathologist looked around the room, and finally to their present forms. Taking the particular note of their lack of clothes and messy hair.

"We...we didn't hav-"

Mary snorted, "Calm down, we didn't have sex."

Wildly Molly gestured to Mary, "Then where's your dress? And where's my shirt?!"

Calmy the nurse pulled the blanket down from her chest, an action which had Molly blushing as she quickly looked away.

"Will you stop acting silly and look at me!"

Reluctantly Molly did just that, but instead of seeing her friend's breasts, she was staring at two mounds covered in a skin toned strapless bra.

She lifted the blanket to her own chest and peered downwards, at last appeased with the sight of her bra still in place.

Oh.

"But why am I in your bed?"

Giving a loud yawn, Mary rested her head on her pillow, "You honestly don't remember?"

Molly shook her head.

"Well, you decided you could only ask Dan if you had worked up the courage, so we sat there sipping drinks unt-"

"Dan?"

Mary let out a sigh, "The bartender. Next thing I know we're stumbling back to the inn because you're upset over something, and by the time we get to our rooms, we realize that you didn't have your purse. I had my key, so you slept in my bed for the night."

"So what about our clothes? Please don't tell me we took them off on our walk here."

To answer her question, Mary leaned over her side of the bed, coming back up only to toss Molly's turtleneck on the blanket.

"It was too hot in the night so we took off a couple of layers. And that's it. Now if you excuse me, I'm going back to bed."

Molly sat there staring at the window across the room from them, marvelling over what she could remember of her first night in Jamaica. She adjusted herself in the bed, getting comfortable to sleep just as Mary was doing.

Then Mary's words sunk in...all of them.

"Mary, get up!" She frantically shouted, pulling her turtleneck on as she scrambled to climb out of bed.

"What?" asked of the tired hump of her friend hidden under a blanket.

"My purse! We have to get it back! I left my passport in it!"

Mary's face peeked from under the blanket, squinting through the light, "Please tell me you're kidding."

The petite brunette inhaled a shuddering breath, hopelessness causing her eyes to well up with tears.

 _How could I have been so stupid_? Molly questioned herself. This all had been a terrible mistake, she should have never left home.

Noticing the change in her friend, Mary hurried to throw the clinging blanket off of her and jump to her feet, "Now hold on! Molly it was just a mistake, look, we'll retrace our steps from last night, okay? I'm sure someone noticed a purse lying around."

She squeezed Molly's shoulder, "Don't worry we'll get it back, alright?" She waited until her friend nodded, sniffing through a weak smile.

"Good. Now I can't let you out looking like that, you'll just have to borrow some clothes from me until we can get into your room, okay?"

* * *

Greg leaned further in, brows knitted together as he studied the colour of the bruise. Lowly he whistled under his breath, leaning back to turn to John with a raised brow, "You did that?"

John shrugged, "Not intentionally."

"Like hell it wasn't!" Sherlock snapped, "You're the one that threw the book!"

"Yes, but I didn't expect it to knock you in the face."

Sherlock scoffed, holding the bag of ice back to his cheek as he began to utter a speech that immediately had the others tuning him out.

John's cell vibrated from within his coat pocket, and still ignoring his best friend, he removed it and thumbed through his messages until he came across the most recent one.

Eventually John had to accept that his wife went behind his back and was currently travelling around Jamaica with mousy Molly. Arguing wouldn't change the fact, and Mary was good about sending him update texts so he wasn't out of the loop.

 **(9:57 PM) At a bar w/ Molly. She has the cutest crush on the bartender!**

 **(9:58 PM) I think I'll have to give her a little push.**

 _Leave it to Mary to play matchmaker_ , John thought with a grin.

 **(10:02 PM) I said I had to go to the bathroom to give them some more time to "talk". Look at them! They would have the cutest kids together! Think I'll get to be godmother?**

 **(10:02 PM) file attached**

He clicked on it, and sure enough there was a photo of Molly leaning forward to talk to a man behind the bar counter. The time of day made the photo a light bit dark, but the colourful lights of the bar shone on Molly like stage spotlights.

The man across from her was several inches taller, a little chubby around the belly, but he seemed to have a kind face made up of a neatly groomed beard and sky blue eyes hidden behind thick black glasses. He couldn't be anything but a few years older than her, and the lines on his face showed he laughed a lot, which was good.

She certainly looked happy, though a bit flushed around the cheeks. And the bartender seemed nice enough, and after a seconds debate he nodded his head. If they did have kids together he was sure they'd be adorable.

A shift of the air next to him had John glancing over, catching the eye of a curious Greg. He showed the screen to the other man, watching as he inspected the photo with a small smile. John leaned close to him, whispering "Mary thinks they'd have cute kids." into his ear.

Greg nodded, giving the thumbs up with a toothy grin.

"What are you two doing?"

Quickly John went to stuff his cell into his pocket but Sherlock was far too quick, ripping the device from his hands and eyes darting to read his texts and to finally land on the photo.

His calm tone didn't match his expression, in his eyes there blazed a fire that threatened to consume everything in its path, "It's good to see that in the middle of an important investigation you two seem to be gossiping like old hens. And about something like this!'" He waved the cell around, face clouded in a swirl of emotions.

"Oh enough of the high and mighty bullshit, Sherlock! Just because you're jealous of the potential father for Molly's children does not mean you can take it out on us!"

"Potential father!? He's just a bartender! There isn't thinking involved in that line of work, John! And no doubt he'll be intimated by the simple fact that Molly Hooper's job has actual meaning in this world! And another thing, I am not-"

* * *

"-jealous of your line of work, Dan."

"What are you talking about?"

"Looks like two girls are banging on your doors for some more drinks, would have thought it being 6 am would have them waiting."

Dan paused for a moment, brows furrowed as he held little Serena to his chest, patting her back gently until she cooed with delight.

"What do they look like, Nina?"

She pushed the curtains further back and studied them for a second before addressing Dan again, "Both short little things, one blonde the other brunette."

Dan gasped, climbing as quickly to his feet as he could with the small infant held against him. "That's 'em, Nina! Get their attention before they leave!"

Nina did exactly that, opened the window overlooking the street below and stuck her head out to holler loud enough to ward off a stampede of elephants, "Hey! You two looking for a purse?!"

Both Mary and Molly jumped in shock, eyes searching everywhere for the voice until they spotted a young woman peering out from the window above the cafe.

"Yes! Do you have it!?" Mary shouted back.

The woman's head popped back inside, a minute later she emerged waving Molly's purse in hand.

The pathologist and nurse met each other's gaze before they were crossing the street to the other side, the young woman had already disappeared from the window before they managed to reach her.

"Excuse me! Miss?!" Molly called out, craning her neck as she tried to catch sight of the woman once again. Only nothing was there.

From the alleyway that separated Nina's Cafe from Island Nails, a sound fluttered to meet their ears. At the end of the filthy stretch there was a figure standing there.

Molly elbowed her friend's side, tilting her head in the direction of the woman waiting on them.

"Well, are you going to follow or not? I don't have all day."

The young woman turned on her heel to head back into the alleyway, disappearing from the bend that went behind the stores.

Molly and Mary raced after her, eventually coming across a fire escape that climbed along the length of the red bricked building. The nameless woman was already ascending until she reached a window identified by a potted sunflower placed on the window-sill, where she ducked inside.

Mary went up first, seeing as Molly had borrowed a dress from her wardrobe. After struggling for a few minutes eventually they managed to crawl inside the building from the window, mindful of the plant.

Maybe now they'd get answers.


	6. Jammed Breakfast

It was certainly an odd circumstance, to be seated on a stranger's couch, awkwardly chewing on jam covered croissants. To say in the least, this isn't what Molly thought her day would be like.

She was squished together with Mary on a vermilion couch, quietly taking the humble room in while nibbling on their pastries.

It was a modest but pleasant space, the well worn furniture was well taken care of. The walls were painted a shade of daffodil, going well with the pale hardwood floors covered by a fluffy gray rug that Mary wiggled her bare toes on.

Everything was small and tidy, even the limited books in the room were put away in black metal shelves that went up the wall's length. From what Molly could tell, the library mostly contained books on recipes for alcoholic beverages and gardening.

Molly's eyes darted away at the sound of ice clinking, the sound approaching slowly.

Dan entered the room again, placing two large sweating glasses of iced tea before the two women.

"I was starting to get worried that you wouldn't show up again."

Mary nodded, grabbing her glass as she addressed the standing bartender, "I believe we're both just thankful that it didn't come down to that."

"Thank you, Dan." Molly mumbled through a shy smile.

He placed a resting hand along the small of his back as he smiled, "Think nothing of it. I wouldn't want anyone to be stranded somewhere without any means to get back home."

Molly briefly smiled before she glanced back to the room's only entryway. Dan noticed her distracted expression and followed her gaze, then a knowing smile broke out onto his face.

"My sister, Nina, has quite her hands full with the little one."

"She's gorgeous." Mary softly gushed, eyes darting towards the door frame. A faint happy gurgle met their ears, making everyone silently beam in delight.

Their host sat in a stuffed chair that was placed diagonally from the couch, grunting as soon as the plush fabric embraced him.

There was a moment of friendly silence before Molly spoke up, voice barely above a whisper. "What's her name?"

"Serena. She's Nina's precious bundle of joy, I'm just the adoring uncle that spoils her rotten." He shook his head, chuckling as a fond smile spread across his face.

"And is Nina's husband here?"

"Left just before Serena was born, couldn't handle the 'stress' as he put it. Well, good riddance." An uncharacteristic frown was etched into Dan's face for a moment before he remembered his company and donned another brilliant smile, flashing it to cover up the sullen mood that seemed to linger over the trio. "Now it's just the three of us, we manage to keep things busy around here. Do any of you have kids?"

With the last of her breakfast devoured, Mary sighed "Not yet."

Molly turned towards her, "You never told me you wanted children." Her friend responded with a shrug.

"When I was younger I never put too much thought into it, my career controlled a huge part of my life for the longest time. And I didn't think much about my own needs either, and certainly not about some future mini Marys."

"Not even mini Johns?" Molly offered with a grin.

Mary beamed back at her, "What do you think changed my mind?"

"They tend to do that." A husky voice drawled.

Nina made her way over to Dan's chair, standing behind it with a tired but content smile. She was the thinner and lighter of the siblings, with wavy honey hair and eyes the shade of seafoam. While her brother seemed to greet everyone with the same outwardly friendliness, Nina acknowledged the seated women with guarded hospitality.

"Though I have to say that Serena doesn't make as much trouble as you two did."

It was a surprise to everyone when Molly leaned forward, "I'm sorry if we were a hindrance, but I never intended to lose my purse last night."

Dan's mouth opened, no doubt to apologize for his sister when she instead quickly cut him off.

"I never meant that. We were just a bit flustered last night, or Dan was. You know, with the disappearances considered."

Silence doused the room again, overflowing until it spread into every corner of the flat. It took some time, but eventually Mary spoke up.

"What disappearances?"

"You don't know?" Nina seemed unsurprised.

Dan stood up and mumbled something about making more iced tea before he went back into the kitchen, leaving Nina to climb into his former seat.

"It started five years ago, a girl would walk down a street by herself and the next moment she'd be gone. It's been happening more frequently, to the point where everyone stays in pairs whenever they go outside, it's madness."

"Why haven't we heard about this?"

Nina shrugged, "Because no one cares. So far it's just been the locals going missing, and I'm not sure if you noticed, we aren't exactly rich here. And the police won't do anything, it'd be admitting a serious problem and that'd mean no one would show up here. Definitely a business killer."

Molly perked up with realization, "That's why were you worried about us returning to the inn."

The young mother slowly nodded, "You being drunk as you were made things worse. I don't think you noticed, but Dan made sure you got home safe last night."

At that proclamation, Molly and Mary shared a look.

Sensing the wavering confusion mixed with apprehension, Nina sighed before she further explained.

"Dan asked his sweetheart to watch and make sure you two got back safely, we didn't want another missing person's case on our hands, especially two rich tourists."

Mary gave a loud snort as a flustered Molly shook her head, "We aren't rich! Not in the slightest."

"Yeah, a nurse's salary is exactly enough to purchase a yacht with."

"Enough to go on an international vacation?" Nina rose a brow at the other two woman.

Mary frowned at their hostess's tone, "What are you trying to i-"

"Wait!" Molly suddenly interrupted, "Did you say Dan's sweetheart?" Everything was silent she absorbed this words, face becoming crestfallen and she stared at the rug underneath her feet.

Mary cleared her throat, addressing Nina with a smile, "Thank you for everything, we truly are grateful. If you don't mind, we'll be on our way. Can you please pass that on to Dan as well?"

Reluctantly their hostess nodded, courteously climbing to her feet as the two English women stood. Wordlessly she showed them to the front door, whispering instructions on how to travel the twisting hallways until they exited the front door.

* * *

Immediately Mary was thankful to step outside, free from the flat's stuffy air. She clasped her hand on her friend's shoulder, giving a brief squeeze.

"Are you alright?"

Her friend turned to her, sighing, "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You're looking a bit melancholy."

The pair started to walk down the sidewalk, keeping a leisurely pace as Molly adjusted her purse strap.

"I know I'm being foolish but…"

"...but?"

She blushed as she struggled to find the words to explain herself, "I liked what you mentioned before."

"Having mini Johns? I love you dearly, Molls', but I have to say he's taken."

"No, not that!" She waved the comment away with a chuckle, shaking her head at the other's antics.

 _He's not my type anyway_ , Molly thought with a grin. "I meant about having adventures, what was it you said? 'It isn't fair the boys go on all the adventures'? That's what I want to do."

Mary stopped walking, causing Molly to halt and turn towards her with a frown.

"You want to solve mysteries together? Like Sherlock and John?"

She bit her bottom lip, eyes sheepishly shifting towards anything else other than Mary's questioning gaze.

"I...guess." She mumbled. Her eyes widened in surprise as she quickly glanced up to the hug she found herself pressed into.

"I thought you'd never ask!"

Giggling, Molly writhed as she tried to get out of the other's hold. "Why are you so excited?! We haven't even a case to do!"

Releasing her friend, Mary shrugged, "That shouldn't be too hard, we have after all, just heard of people vanishing."

"Do you think we could really do that? Find all those girls?"

Mary hummed, linking arms with the brunette as they walked alongside each other to the direction of the inn. "Of course! If Sherlock and my hubby can do it, surely we can too. Oh, we can have our own blog about our spectacular adventures!"

"Who would want to read about _us?_ " Molly said with a raised brow.

"You'd be surprised. We could call it the _Dashing Mysteries of the two Ms'_!" Mary sung, waving an arm as she described all the fantastic things they could accomplish.

"I'm not so sure about that, what about ' _The Marvelous Adventures of Molly & Mary_'? I think it sounds a tad bit better."

"I love it, we can make some t-shirts up and send them to Sherlock and John. Can you imagine what their fa..."

That's how they continued the rest of their walk to the inn, unaware how quickly they'd find themselves embroiled in the adventure.


	7. Ring! Ring!

It was quickly settled that they couldn't possibly start any adventures without a nice warm shower, a very necessary activity to clear out the cobwebs from the previous night. They eagerly grabbed the fluffy cotton towels and made their way to the luxurious ensuites.

Twenty minutes later, steam rolled from under the bathroom door like a moist carpet, coating the room in subtle scents of grapefruit and kiwi. Molly was flushed from the heat of the shower, and with a towel wrapped around her dripping body she strolled over to her suitcase and unzipped the main compartment.

Clean underwear, a scarlet tank top, and beige shorts were removed. After she dried her body, the refreshed pathologist was thankful to dress in her own clothing. It was a small comfort, being that they still smelt of home.

Molly pat her hair dry and caught sight of a familiar gleam of metal on her bed, her cell phone. Remembering she still had texts to respond to and surely some painful calls from Sherlock, she headed over to her bed and picked it up.

She skimmed through the waiting messages and after some deliberation, determinedly entered the number for her voicemail. Putting off Sherlock's message was not going to make things easier.

His deep baritone voice cut through the humid air like butter, sounding frantic and strangely enough concerned as he said, "Molly, I've read the text from Mary. I expect you to call me back as soon as you get this, no later than that."

 _The text from Mary?_ With her brow furrowed, she moved on to the stream of texts that clogged up her inbox.

 **Molly, where are you?**

 **I demand you return at once.**

 **Your absence is detrimental to my work, and I won't allow it to be comprised.**

 **Molly, this isn't a joke. Respond NOW.**

She sat down on the edge of her bed, and with trembling hands dialed Sherlock's number. Any other time she would have been delighted by being missed by the gloomy detective, but not like this. He sounded like he was driven stark raving mad, and Molly wasn't sure if she should feel guilty, or enraged by his attitude.

The line rung twice before it was picked up, with enough of a pause for Molly to take in a deep breath.

"Hullo, Sherlock. I just turned on my cell, so I have no i-"

" _Who is he?_ "

Molly sputtered, "W-what?"

The annoyance in Sherlock's voice was palpable, and it seemed he too needed a deep breath to calm his temper. "The bartender, Molly. The idiot Mary was sending photos of to John."

"You mean Dan?"

Sherlock tested the name on his tongue, swishing it around until he drew it out in a hiss, " _Dan_...Hmph, well it doesn't matter. Null your little escapades with him and return home at once."

"No!"

It was Sherlock's turn to sputter, genuinely shocked at the force of her words. "E-excuse me?"

"You heard me. I'm not in a relationship with Dan, and even if I was, it certainly wouldn't involve you! I'm on vacation, Sherlock, so you'll get to see me when I decide to come home."

"But then I'd have to work with that oaf Baur!"

"He's a brilliant pathologist, if you gave him a chance. If not, too bad. I'll see you when I get back, Sherlock. _Goodbye_."

* * *

The sudden clicking sound of Molly hanging up had Sherlock's chest squeezing painfully. At first he was so alarmed by the sensation that he thought he was having a heart attack, but that was quickly dismissed.

He leaned back in his armchair, letting his cell fall limply from his hand as he stared through a fogged window.

Vaguely he recognized the sound of sirens blaring in the distance, though London's welfare was the furthest from his thoughts. He was far too absorbed in analyzing the range of emotions that swirled within him.

It was obvious he was happy that Molly wasn't having some fling with that bartender. Dan, Sherlock recalled with disgust. But miraculously he wasn't satisfied, and it was startling that he didn't know why. And even worse, regret seemed to leave a sour taste in his mouth.

He ran both hands through his hair, uncaring if his fingers were snagged within the jungle mess. Letting out a large sigh, he cradled his head within his hands.

Bent over in his seat, the background sounds seemed to only be amplified. Rain pelting the glass, the smell of cigarette smoke and dirt heavy in the air. He truly did wish that Molly was faring better than he was...

* * *

Molly gulped as she stared at her cell, like it was some strange creature that had crawled from the sewers and into the palm of her hand.

She couldn't believe she did that. In fact she needed to pinch herself to verify that she was even awake.

"Ouch" she whispered to herself, rubbing the injured skin. Honestly, she wasn't sure how much of the detective's prissy attitude she could take anymore.

He was just like Toby. Affectionate when it only suited him, but as soon as she petted another cat he'd rip up the carpet in retaliation. It was seriously getting on her nerves.

Thankfully she had something to distract her. Speaking of which...A loud knock echoed throughout her room, enough to jostle Molly out of her self questioning as she rose to answer it. And just as expected, her impeccably timed friend was on the other side.

Mary flashed a grin, "Are you ready to go?"

Molly rolled her eyes, "More than you'll ever know."

"Are you alright?" Mary asked as Molly closed up her room, "You look a little...down."

"I had a lovely conversation with Sherlock." Which was an explanation by itself for an irritable mood.

"Ah."

Molly glanced at Mary from the corner of her eye, "He actually mentioned you." Her friend didn't seem surprised, but rather composed as she made an encouraging hum. It made her suspicion flare up again, like tiny bells ringing at potential danger.

The pair were mutually quiet as they headed down the hall, and it was only when they neared the staircase when Mary responded.

"I guess there's no point hiding it anymore. I never told John I was coming here."

Molly, who had started down the steps, tripped. If it weren't for the quick reflexes of the woman beside her, Molly was afraid she would have gotten to the main floor in an unconventional, but certainly quicker way.

Cautious despite the firm grip on her arm, Molly twisted around, expression dubious as she took in her friend.

"W-what? But you said-"

"I know what I said, and I lied. I never told John I was leaving, well, ahead of time. I did leave a note."

"A note doesn't mean anything, Mary! You went to a different country for fuck's sake! What if you got kidnapped or...or worse?! You would have left a worried husband at home, for nothing!"

The grip on Molly's arm was released, "I didn't come here for nothing, Molly. I was genuine when I told you about wanting to do something bigger and better. To help people! I just...I didn't feel like I was doing my full purpose over there."

Empathy slammed into Molly at full force, leaving her breathless as the two stared at one another. She knew the feeling of standing in someone else's shadow too well, she practically lived in it. But the idea that someone like Mary could have doubts was foreign, she always seemed so well put together. Confident.

"I...I'm not the best with words, but if you ever need someone to talk to..." She let the offer hang in the air.

A smile was slow to flicker on Mary's face, "Thanks, Molls'. I appreciate that."

Molly nodded, "Good, 'cause I'd really love to get back to this sleuthing."

Her friend let out a loud laugh, "You and me both. C'mon, let's get started."

With a bond stronger than before, the pair made their way downstairs. Ready to take on the first steps of their investigation.


	8. Our Aunt

Incessantly the bell was rung, but to no avail. The inn remained as quiet as a sealed grave, yielding nothing to the two impatient women.

Mary looked in both directions, bewildered by the sight of empty hallways.

"Andrea?!" The receptionist was nowhere to be seen. Mary turned to her friend, brow raised, "Who do you want to try next?"

Molly shrugged, "The local newspaper might have some answers." The pair shared a nod, and quickly made their way out the front door.

A breeze was there to greet them, a soothing second to the blistering orb in the sky. It was hard to ignore, but it wasn't for lack of trying.

It was Molly who had glanced to the side, and was taken aback to see an unfamiliar man kneel before the flowerbeds. Nudging Mary with her elbow, the young pathologist made her way over to bustling man.

"Excuse me?" She paused as he glanced up from his work, wiping his sweaty brow with a huff.

"Yes?"

"I'm Molly, and this is my friend Mary" She offered a polite smile, stepping forward, "do you mind if we ask you a question?"

Knowing it'd be a while before he got the chance to finish weeding the garden, the elderly man leaned back, "I suppose not."

Smiling Molly opened her mouth, but was quickly interrupted by Mary.

"Wonderful, Mr...?"

"Ward. Francis Ward."

"Now Mr. Ward, do you happen to know where we'd be able to find a library of some sorts?"

"A library?"

"Yes," Molly piped in, "or someone that would record the local occurrences. Like a journalist."

Francis spat onto the ground, angry expression clouding his face. "They're all snakes, the only good they'll do you is ask for an arm and leg in exchange to give information that any idiot would know."

Mary furrowed her brow, "Then what do you suggest?"

Francis thought of it for a second, rubbing at his chin, and unknowingly spread dirt. "Ask Aunt Beattie, she'd know anything that happened in town."

"Your...aunt?" Molly and Mary spared each other a skeptical glance.

Francis barked out a laugh, "Not by blood. Beattie is aunt to everyone in soul, you won't meet a sweeter woman."

"Where can we find her?"

Grunting, Francis climbed to his feet. He was a short man, an inch shorter than Mary. With skin creased and weathered from spending long bouts in the sun, enough to have him looking like a piece of leather. Or an unappealing slab of beef jerky. And yet in Molly's eyes he was undeniably cute, which may have to do with his overly large sun hat, encircled with indigo ribbon, with a sprig of lavender. Or perhaps it was the gardening gloves that were printed with little duckies, yes, maybe it was that.

Either way, she was ready to lend a steadying hand at any signs of him tripping. He pointed to a white steeple in the distance, a sharp set of lines in the horizon made up of trees and clouds.

"See that? It's the old church, built over a hundred years ago. Aunt Beattie lives right next to it, in an ugly modern thing. Lime green. There's no way you could miss that abomination"

Mary turned back to Francis, eyes squinting against the glare of the sun. "And it's just down the hill?"

Francis let out a shuddering cough before he nodded, "Just follow the main road and you'll get there."

A chorus of "Thank you" came from the two girls, receiving a fond farewell as they began to follow the gardener's directions.

* * *

The floorboards creaked ominously as he jogged his way up to his former flat. He had just stepped on to the landing when he heard it, the sound of glass shattering mingled together with furious shouts. Worried for his best friend, John called out "Sherlock!" as he sprinted the short distance and shouldered his way inside.

Immediately the door gave way, which was a terrible surprise for John, who thought it would be locked. He stumbled forward, barely managing to catch his balance as he slid.

John's head snapped up with lighting speed. Instead of being thrown in between Sherlock and some supposed attackers, John was met with awkward silence.

Sherlock stood to the side, brandishing a violin bow. He appeared murderous, but unharmed.

Something that couldn't be said to the teacup shattered upon the living floor, the remnants of the tea seeping into the flooring.

The cause of the detective's annoyance seemed to be his smug brother, Mycroft, who was content to be settled on an armchair in the corner of the room. Though he appeared composed, it was evident by the tight grip on his umbrella that he wasn't afraid to use it. Unfortunately Lestrade was in the middle of the mess, trying to ease the younger Holmes as his eyes darted to and fro with dizzying speed.

"Sherlock," everyone's eyes slid to him, "are you alright?"

"What does it look like, John?" Sherlock hissed, manically waving his bow, "Scotland Yard has become a lap dog to my _dearest brother!_ "

"Sherlock..." Greg started, but was quickly cut off with a pointed glare.

"You've said quite enough."

Mycroft rolled his eyes, "Oh, please. If this is anyone's fault, it's yours, brother."

"Mine?!"

"Yes, if you hadn't been such a possessiv-"

"Just what is this all about?!" John shouted, fed up with being ignored. Again eyes were placed back on him, as if they'd forgotten he was even there. And he didn't doubt it.

"Sherlock," Mycroft begun, "was planning on boarding a plane to Jamaica."

His brother scoffed, spinning on his heel in favour of stomping his way to the fireplace, mercilessly carving into the strings of the poor instrument. The sound was a series of ungodly screeches, unsettling to everyone but Mycroft, who seemed bent on giving Sherlock as little of a reaction as possible.

Bewildered, John glanced at his friend before turning to the older Holmes brother, "You're kidding, whatever for?"

"Why else?" Mycroft shot back. Inspecting his fingernails, his face remained stoic as he said, "To bring his pathologist home."

"Molly?" Now John had heard everything. He had his suspicions that the detective fancied the mousy woman, but not enough to go at such great lengths. Shaking his head, John met Mycroft's gaze, "I'm guessing you became involved because you were alarmed when he was near an airport, but why are you here?" He asked of the greyed inspector.

Greg sighed, "Because of the scene he caused."

"The scene?" Sherlock's playing seemed to grow in volume, to the point where John was sure he heard some dogs howling and a neighbour screaming that Sherlock better stop or else he'd...well, unpleasant things that involved a jar of nails and a thick rope.

Mycroft loudly sniffed, "As I heard it, Sherlock had managed to slip past the majority of the security detail without any cause of alarm. It was only when two of my...employee's managed to grab ahold of him in the bathroom, when he was donning a ridiculous disguise, that all hell broke loose. I had the misfortune of paying five thousand quid for the damages, which involved the entire destruction of the room, and flooding that went down the hallway. That, and the treatment of one staff member for a traumatic emotional breakdown, when Sherlock deducted the poor woman's newfound widowed title. And here we are..." he gave a sweeping gesture. "Any questions?"

At the unwavering silence, even Sherlock halted in his murder of the violin. Mycroft clambered to his feet.

"As lovely as this has been for a reunion, I have work that needs attending. Gentlemen..." After crossing the room, Mycroft lingered in the doorframe before he looked over his shoulder, icy gaze fixated on his kin.

"Try to be patient. The only thing you're doing is acting like a fool, anyone can see that." And with that he left, and time had resumed as if nothing had transpired at the flat at all.

"I hate to say it," John said with a sigh, "but he's right."

"No one asked _you_ " Sherlock snapped, face drawn tight as he set his instrument to the side.

"Sherlock you're a brilliant man, no one is denying that. But this..." Greg gestured around the room, "hasn't been your greatest moment."

"In comparison to what? Allowing Mo-Dr. Hooper to be in harm's way?"

"She's not going to be hurt, Sherlock. Mary is with her!"

"And she's been so trustworthy before?" John flinched, and the hurt was evident on his face before he covered it with a scowl. Realizing that he'd perhaps stepped too far, Sherlock's angry lifted slightly.

The screamed curse he expected never came, "You're right, Mary doesn't have the best track record. But neither do you, or anyone for that matter. But I am sure that whatever dangers they might face, both will stand up for each other." John took a firm step forward, expression cross as he met his friend's gaze, "You know why I think this? Because at the end of the day, I _trust_ them. Which is clear you don't feel the same way."

Without another word, John brushed past Sherlock, shoulder connecting the other's as he left the flat.

The consulting detective was left mute and stalk still, staring into oblivion as Greg mumbled out, "I should go...excuse me" and he too departed. To drown out the unnerving silence, Sherlock retraced his steps back to his instrument and settled into a familiar poised stance. Allowing the much lighter sound of chords being expertly stuck to settle his pained mind, he searched for an answer within himself.

* * *

The pair stood side by side on the paint peeled front porch, waiting for any sign of life.

"Knock again" Mary offered in an ill-concealed whisper.

"We have to give her a chance," Molly hissed back, "she's probably just taking a while to get to the door."

"Or maybe she isn't home. We could ask a neighbour, a-" The door swung open, quickly silencing their conversation.

An old woman, the oldest either had ever seen, stood before them. Just like Francis, she was brown and wrinkled, but she had a graceful way about her. A youthfulness that seemed unaffected with her age, only enhanced with two large eyes that were soft and warm, like a spoonful of honey.

It was Molly who spoke up, blushing as she asked, "Are you Aunt Beattie?"

The woman responded with a kind smile, "Beatrice if you like, but yes, I'm an aunt all the same." She stepped to the side, "Why don't you two come in? I just made some fresh lemonade."

Pleased at the prospect of getting out of the sun, the two women eagerly made their way inside. Sighs escaping their lips at the cool wave that overtook them, a blessing from the fans perched in every nook and cranny of the house.

And just as the house betold from its exterior, Aunt Beatrice's home was small in size, but that was gladly overlooked with its contents. The hallway they were led down was a pale shade of green, giving off the feeling that they were in a massive fruit. The walls were covered in photo frames, pictures of a variety of landscapes and people, all of which included one common thing. Their hostess was within them, transforming from a starry eyed girl in a faded black and white photo, to a liver spotted woman in a vibrant set of colours.

Molly paused by one, studying a young girl no older than sixteen, perched lazily in a jazz lounge as smoke filtered around her. Her slinky dress glistened thanks to the multitude of gems upon it, though her gown was no match for the dazzling rows of pearly teeth that she aimed at the camera with a knowing grin.

Beatrice, aged no greater than her early twenties, was seated in the next photo with a girl who was the same age. She was curvy, with a small rounded nose and a cheerful face covered in a splattering of freckles. This time no one was staring into the camera, both unable to take their eyes off of one another.

Molly glanced up, and quickly noticed how empty the hallway had become. Ushered by the clinking of ice against glass, Molly hurried down the hallway until she found her missing friend and hostess.

It wasn't hard, the sound of their laughter led her into a quaint living room, with glasses in hand filled with a sweet beverage.

With walls a hearty shade of red, lace curtains shielded everything from any watchful eyes outside. There was a large dark leather couch and a smaller sofa, both were covered in an array of plush pillows.

Swimming in a seemingly endless amount, Mary waggled her eyebrows as she held up a sweating glass of lemonade. It only took Molly a second to behold it, before she squished herself in with the blonde, hands outstretched for her own.

Chuckling, Aunt Beatrice set her pitcher back down onto the coffee table, next to the bowl of peppermints and butter cream candies. The exchange of lemonade was a slow one, but Molly couldn't bring herself to care, far too absorbed in downing gulp after gulp of the lemon elixir.

Mary set her half filled glass onto the coffee table, favouring to take in the souvenirs obviously taken from one of Beatrice's multiple trips around the world.

As her eyes made a scan of the room, she came across a large photo frame taken in black and white. The style reminded her of the 50's, with colourful gowns that emphasised the hour glass figure. A woman with blonde hair and dark lipstick pressed her mouth against a laughing Beatrice's cheek, each smiling happily as they sat on grass sprouting lavish wildflowers.

"That's Ruby and I."

Mary turned to the elderly woman, "The two of you seem very much in love."

"We are..." Aunt Beatrice broke off with a frown, "or I am."

"Did she leave you?"

"Oh heavens, no. Ruby was a sweet as sugar pie, a thing like that was unheard of for her. I left, it was better that way. She would have been more happy."

The room became quiet, even Molly had lowered her glass.

Sniffing loudly, Beatrice smiled again, but this time it was forced. "I'm sure you didn't arrive on my doorstep to listen to past regrets, so how can I help?"

Mary stifled a cough, casting a glance to Molly who took the cue.

"Mr. Ward said you were the one to talk to if you had questions?"

Aunt Beatrice leaned back in her sofa, bemused as she said, "Francis is a smart man. Even for my age my memory has been faithful, if you need to know who built the church, or who owned the general store, I'm your gal."

Mouth dry, Molly questioned, "How about the disappearances?

"The girls? Just an awful situation, especially for the parents. No one wants to hear their child has been taken."

Mary straightened, "Have you lived here long?"

"Born and raised."

"So in all of that time...None of this has happened before?"

Beatrice snorted, "Some of us may be a bit loopy, but no, we're decent folk. The kidnappings started recently, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why."

Molly and Mary shared a look, anticipation building as their hostess bent over the coffee table to scoop up a peppermint. She weighed it in her hand for a second before she popped it into her mouth, "Tourists."

The two British women blinked for a second, unsure if they heard her correctly.

"Tourists?" Mary tested, as if it were a foreign word to her.

Beatrice nodded, "Makes things easier. Drugs and sex goes a long way when you can ship it overseas, a lot of green to make people wealthy. People who'd be very content to stay there."

Mary leaned forward, "Do you know the main receivers for these trades?"

The elderly woman shrugged, "The same as always, tourists with deep pockets. If you were to ask around, I'd start at a hotel or bar, they're your best bet. But I have to say," Beatrice cleared her throat, "I've seen more British tourists than usual." Her hardened gaze lingered on them, enough to have both ladies bristling.

* * *

"The nerve!" Mary hissed. The front door to the lime coloured house came to a shut, announcing the departure of a furious Mary, and her friend who tried to prevent a fist fight in the street.

"She's just being protective, her town is in shambles. Who wouldn't be suspicious?"

"Yes, but of us! Look at us Molls', we're completely normal!"

"Normal?" Molly repeated with a scoff, "My job is to cut up bodies in some cellar. And you? Well..."

"Well, what?" Mary inquired with a raised brow, smile tugging on the corners of her lips.

"Well...Nurses are all a bit crazy, some more than othe-Ouch!" Molly giggled as she stepped back, rubbing at her arm as she minded Mary's raised fist.

"C'mon you nut, we have a bartender to harass." Mary rolled her eyes, smirking as Molly fell into step beside her. Unaware that as they walked down the street, that a curtain blocking a window was shifted.


End file.
